


On Call

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [60]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Supernatural AU - Freeform, obscene noises, witch gene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: “Oh my God, Gene,” Edward moaned down the line and Gene’s pulse kicked up.  His whole body grew warm and tingly.  “These are the best cookies in the world.  I swear.  I’m not exaggeratin’.  They’re fuckin’ awesome.”  They must be, Gene thought, to get you to make that sound.OR: a companion piece to "Can Someone Call Me A Doctor" written from Gene's POV
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
Series: What We Do In The Dark [60]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366063
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	On Call

**Author's Note:**

> A special shout-out to kid_blink for giving me the little nudge (or excuse) I needed to write this. I hope you enjoy it ;)

ONE

Gene was halfway down the drive, returning from a quick check of the ward line, when he heard the phone ring. “ _Shit,_ ” he cursed, bolting toward the house. He hit the porch at a run and leapt up the stairs. He flung the door open and swung into the kitchen just as the phone was on its last ring—no one ever called Gene unless it was an emergency and he couldn’t afford to miss it. He plucked it from its cradle. “Hello?” He gasped. 

The line crackled. “Gene?”

The voice was a tender punch to the solar plexus. “Edward? Is that you?” He knew it was—the slightly nasal accent, the mix of fight and play, the hopeful edge—the voice had become familiar to him over the last week or so. He’d know it anywhere. “Everythin’ alright?” Maybe there’d been an accident. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe one of the Pack were hurt. Maybe he’d forgotten something. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The voice came, slightly bemused, with the hint of a nervous laugh.

Gene frowned. _No one ever called unless it was an emergency._ So what was he missing? “Did you need somethin’?”

“What?” Now, Edward sounded confused. “No. I just…well, I wanted to see how you’re doin’.”

Gene pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at it for a moment, sure that he was dreaming. It looked real. Gene shrugged and brought it back to his ear. “I’m alright,” he answered cautiously, sure that he was still missing something. “Same as always, I guess. You sure you didn’t need somethin’?” 

“No,” Edward chirped, “Just wanted to say hi. I won’t keep you if you’re busy, though. I know you got a lot to do.”

Still confused, Gene squinted, trying to untangle this strange conversation. “Yeah.” He was missing something. Definitely. Maybe Edward had been too nervous to actually say what he’d called to say. “Take care of yo’self, Edward.” Before the other man could say anything else, Gene hung up the phone and stood in his kitchen, staring at it, almost as if expecting it to ring once more and for Edward to finally ask for what he’d wanted originally. Gene snorted and shook his head. He figured he’d find out, eventually.

* * *

TWO

Gene absentmindedly plucked the phone from its cradle and held it between his ear and shoulder while he continued to prepare his fish for dinner. “Hello?”

“Gene? It’s Babe.” _Babe. Was it always gonna feel like someone had sucker punched him?_

“Edward.” Gene breathed, suddenly straightening to attention. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, Gene, I’m fine. How are you?”

_Small talk._ “I’m fine, Edward. What do ya need?” _Stop beating around the bush and just tell me what’s wrong. Put me out of my misery._

“Nothing, I just wanted to call and let you know that the guys all said thanks for the medicine you made them. Yesterday was the full moon. They all got through it okay.” And alright, okay, yeah. Edward had mentioned their thanks while he’d been here. Maybe this was as simple an update as it sounded. Maybe Gene had gotten himself worked up over nothing. Maybe Edward really was okay. _People only call you when they need something._

“Good, I’m glad.” Gene turned the stove off and allowed himself to lean back against the wall. That could be the end of the conversation. Edward had called to say thanks. Gene had accepted it. This was the natural conclusion. Or…or Gene could prolong it. He twisted a finger in the phone cord and decided to give it a shot. _What do I have to lose, anyway?_ “Are you speakin’ with Bill again?”

“Yeah,” Edward huffed, “we talked it out. I’m still a bit pissed, but I’ll get over it.”

“That’s good.” Gene could still remember the young man collapsing in on himself in his kitchen, curled up and crying on his floor. Bill had hurt him, but Gene knew the loss of him would’ve hurt much worse than that. “Friends are good to have, Edward, even if they ain’t perfect.”

“Yeah. So, uh…what’ve you been up to?” Small talk again, or genuine curiosity?

His finger twisted tighter in the phone cord. He supposed Edward _could_ just hang up, if he didn’t really care. Maybe he was still feeling a bit lonely? Unsettled? Maybe he just needed the mundane details of someone else’s day? What about Gene’s day might he find interesting? “I treated a gator this mornin’.”

There was a pause on the line, and Gene thought he’d lost him. Then Edward asked “A what?”

Gene blinked. “You know. An alligator. Got its arm caught in a trap.” _Trapped. Torn up pretty bad. Blood everywhere. Bone showing. Pain practically pouring out of the creature. It wasn’t the first gator Gene had fixed up, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last._

“And you what? Went and found it?” The tone was incredulous, perhaps a bit admonishing.

Gene chuckled as he imagined the indignant look on the other man’s face. “No. It just wandered up to my house and was bleedin’ all over the place.”

“So instead of staying inside like a normal person, you went out and helped it.” Was that tone scolding or disbelieving? It was hard to tell over the crackling line.

Gene frowned. “It was hurt, Edward.”

A soft huff, straight into Gene’s ear. He shivered. “So did you fix it up?”

Gene nodded. “Stopped the bleedin’. Stitched up its claw. Then it waddled away back into the swamp.”

Now the voice had taken on a strangely reverent, fond tone. “You’re amazing, Gene, you know that?”

Gene blushed. He was glad there was no one in the house to see it. He waved away the compliment. “It was nothin’.” No more than what he’d done a hundred times or more, for all sorts of creatures. 

“Of course.” Edward humored him. “Well, I hope you have a good evenin’, Gene. Take care of yourself.”

Gene allowed himself a soft smile. “Thanks. You too, Edward.” 

The warm, soft feeling lingered while Gene finished up his dinner.

* * *

THREE

His dinner was cooking on the stove, again, when the phone rang. Gene allowed himself a little smile as he grabbed the phone and leaned up against the wall. “Edward?”

“Gene!” The voice was surprised, but happy. _Just like an excited puppy._ “How’d you know it was me?”

Gene grinned. It hadn’t been hard to figure out. “Three times makes a pattern, Edward,” he drawled.

“How are you, Gene? Takin’ care of yourself?”

What a strange question. “I’m doin’ just fine.” He assured. Same as always. “How are things in Philly?”

“Pretty good, I guess. I went back to work at Toye’s bar a few days ago.”

Oh? Edward had never mentioned his employment before. Gene twisted a finger in the phone line. “What do you do there?” 

“Oh, I’m a bartender. Nothin’ fancy, you know, but it pays pretty good.” And yeah, Gene could picture it. Edward: tall, redheaded, and charming, with a shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, serving up drinks to a thirsty crowd in a dimly lit room. “Plus, I get to meet a lot of really interesting people,” Edward continued.

“I’ll bet.” _Was that a tinge of jealousy, Eugene Roe? You betta get your head on straight._ He pushed away from the wall, dropped the phone cord, and shuffled over to stir his soup. “Met anyone interestin’ lately?” _Couldn’t help poking that bruise, could you?_

“Oh, yeah, definitely. But it wasn’t at the bar.” And okay, maybe Gene didn’t really wanna know. Was it too late not to know?

“No?” _Shut up, fool. You’re gonna drive yo’self crazy._

“Nope. It was in some swamp in Louisiana.”

Gene’s heart kicked hard in his chest. His mouth went dry. “Yeah?” _Don’t get yo’ hopes up._

“Yeah. Tall, dark, and handsome. A bit mysterious. Got a thing about helpin’ everyone.” _Oh God. Lord help me._ It felt like Gene was being strangled. “Ever heard of him?”

Gene’s whole face was on fire and his heart was hammering away. _What the hell, Edward? Are you tryin’ ta kill me? Get it together, Eugene._ Gene cleared his throat. “Nope, don’t think I have.”

“Shame. He’s a good guy to know.”

Warmth bloomed in his belly and spread throughout his body. He grinned and bowed his head as if to hide his blush, even though he was alone. “Is he?” His heart continued to hammer away at his ribs, and Lord, this skinny redhead was gonna be the death of him. 

He could hear Edward’s grin. “Definitely.”

* * *

FOUR

Gene had moved one of his kitchen chairs over to the opposite side of the room so that he could sit next to the phone since the cord didn’t stretch very far and he had a feeling these phone calls were going to become a common occurrence. He lounged in it, now, his legs stretched out in front of him, tired after a long day of collecting and sorting materials. 

“Any news on the alligator?” Edward asked. 

Gene chuckled, shaking his head. “No, it hasn’t been back. But I’m gonna take that as a good sign.”

“Helped any other wounded animals lately?” _Not lately._ Gene tried to picture Edward at home. What did his home even look like? Was it a house? An apartment? What was he doin’ right now? _Focus, Gene._

“Aside from a man sick with the flu?” Mr. Boudreaux, now nearly 90, had gotten it bad this year, but he’d been a patient and friend of his family for decades, so he’d come as soon as the heaviness had settled in his bones and Gene had fixed him right up. The old man had patted him on the cheek, as he’d done since Gene was a boy and smiled “ _Thanks, Doc._ ” Gene shook himself. “No, not in the last few days.”

“So what else have you been doin’?”

Gene shrugged, even though he knew Edward couldn’t see him. “Collectin’ some herbs. Brewin’ up some more medicines.” It was flu season and soon enough, half the parish was gonna be sick. Whether they came to Gene or sent someone else, most of ‘em would soon be countin’ on these medicines to get them through. The local clinic was always stuffed full this time of year, with hours of waitin’ and a hefty bill at the end of the visit. Most of those brave enough came to him instead. 

“What do you do when you’re not workin’?” The question was simple enough, asked in the same tone as most questions, but Gene still found himself frowning down into the phone. It was a strange question. _Not workin’?_ The concept practically baffled Gene. When you were a healer like he was, like his mama and his grandmother, you were always working. Always on call. There wasn’t time for much else. He must’ve been quiet for too long, because Edward clarified: “I mean, what do you do for fun, Gene? Just because you like doin’ it?” _Fun._ The concept was almost as foreign as _not workin’._ Did Gene _have_ fun? He hadn’t really thought about _fun_ since he was a teenager, and even then it’d been a luxury. _Duty. Responsibility. Necessity._ Those were words Gene was much more familiar with. They were comfortable. Still, Edward was askin’, and Gene didn’t want to sound pathetic. He thought back to what he’d liked to do for fun before, when he’d had time. 

“I draw, some.” His sketchbook was still in a drawer, somewhere, he was sure of it, though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken it out. _Maybe I should._ “And I like to go for walks.” That was a thing he still did. Sometimes because he needed things. Sometimes to visit Renee. Sometimes just to get a feel of the land or check the wards. Sometimes because he couldn’t stand bein’ in the house by himself anymore. “I like to read.”

That seemed to please Edward, because he decided to dive deeper, asking “What sorts of things do you read? For fun, I mean. I saw your bookshelves when I was there.”

Gene chuckled, trying to see his home from the point of view of a person who hadn’t known anything like magic or supernatural creatures existed. _Grimoires. Spell books. Incantations. Recipes. Songs and prayers._ “I do read those for fun, too, ya know?” In the last seven years, Gene had read a lot of books like that. For necessity. But sometimes it was fun. 

“So what else do you read?” Edward pressed. “Really?”

Edward had been to Gene’s home. He’d slept on his couch. Eaten his food. Washed himself in Gene’s shower. Stared into Gene’s eyes while his world fell apart. And yet this question felt too personal, like Gene was giving something valuable away to answer. Like Edward could hurt him with his information, if he wanted to. _Like your name, Eugene Roe, which you gave him the day you met him?_ “Fiction, mostly.” He started, figuring he might as well. “’Bout people and places that ain’t mine.” Gene hummed to himself for a second, thinking. “It’s good to have broad horizons.” _The more you know…._

“You ever been outta Louisiana?” It was another simple question, asked innocently, out of curiosity, but it twisted like a knife. 

“No. Born and raised. I’d like to see the world, but I don’t like to leave my home for too long. There’s a lot of people who count on me.” Gene could still recall, very clearly, the feeling of plans crumbling. The weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Dreams, given up. Wishes, put away. And then, after New Orleans…did he even _dare_ leave his home? 

“Yeah, but that’s not really fair for you, is it? I mean, you do all these things for everyone else. Don’t you deserve somethin’ too?” And there was that fighting Philly stubbornness that Gene had glimpsed when Edward had insisted on helping him after the healing. In that moment, Gene both loved and hated Edward Heffron. _You don’t understand,_ he wanted to shout at him, _you don’t really know who I am!_ What _I am. If you did, you wouldn’t give me hope like that._

But none of those things were fair to say to him. Edward was a kind soul who was simply trying to…what? Be a friend? Get to _know_ Gene? That was a dangerous thought. So Gene swallowed back his emotions and settled with “Power’s a heavy burden, Edward. Or at least, it should be. And I don’t mind.” _Can’t. So don’t rock the boat._

Edward sighed. _Was that disappointment in his tone?_ Gene shrugged it off. He couldn’t let it affect him. “Of course you don’t.”

* * *

EIGHT

“Hello, Edward,” Gene greeted as he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. He was busy whippin’ up a corn cake batter for dinner and he needed both hands. 

“Hey, Gene,” Edward’s voice always sounded happy and Gene couldn’t help smiling.

“Did you go buy some of that mint like I told you to?” Gene asked, with only a slightly stern edge. The day before, Edward had been complaining of a stomach ache from somethin’ he’d eaten. Gene had advised mint, lots of water, and some rest.

“Yep,” Edward chirped, “Worked like a charm. Thanks, Doc.”

Gene beamed, happy he could help, even from this distance. He tried to picture Edward’s smile. He thought he did a good job, too. “You’re welcome, Edward. I’m glad you’re feelin’ better.”

* * *

TWELVE

“What do you mean, you don’t know how to cook, Edward?” Gene demanded, looking Heavenward. _Lord, give me strength._ “You’re a grown man.” He chided. Though, he supposed, that explained a lot.

“I know,” Edward wailed, “but my ma banned me from the kitchen when I was fourteen. We had a misunderstandin’ and she _thought_ I almost burned the kitchen down.”

Gene frowned down into the phone, perfectly able to picture that exact thing. “Well, did ya?” He pressed.

Edward huffed, chagrined. “Sort of, alright? But it wasn’t my fault. Bill encouraged me.” _Of course he did._

Yes, Gene could picture it. Teenage Edward and Bill, wreakin’ havoc in a formerly neat little kitchen, food aflame, the room cloudin’ with smoke…. Gene laughed. “So how do you feed yo’self, then?”

He could imagine Edward’s blush, too, when the man admitted “My ma still does most of the cookin’, or Bill’s ma does. Or, ya know, I eat at the bar or at the sandwich place across the street from the bar. I have ways.”

Gene had to fight to hold back his scoff and remind himself that Edward was still relatively young. Twenty one. Maybe twenty two. Most kids his age were just graduating from college and learning those things themselves. There was still hope for him. Gene gentled his voice when he commented “Well, at least you got people feedin’ you. But I gotta admit, I worry ‘bout you, Edward. Can’t fill yo’ body up with junk. Gotta eat good food. Good for yo’ body, good for yo’ soul.”

“That soup you made when I was there was delicious.” Edward hummed in appreciation, the sound vibrating in Gene’s ear.

Something hot and almost possessive reared up within Gene at the words and the sound. He choked it back to ask “My gumbo?”

“Yeah, the spicy one.” Edward’s voice was content, dreamy, like he was imaginin’ it right now. Which _did things_ to Gene.

“That’s it.” Gene asserted. “You liked that, huh?” And why were his thoughts veering into a different track, now? _Reign it in, son._

“Yep.”

_Lord, help me out here._ Pure thoughts. Pure thoughts. “Well, I guess if you eva’ find yo’ way down here again, maybe I could teach you.” _Was that a lure, Eugene Roe, or wishful thinking? You been lettin’ these phone calls get to yo’ head._

Edward chuckled nervously. “Yeah, about that….”

A cold chill swept through Gene and his thoughts sobered quickly. _Here’s the other shoe droppin’. Fool, to think these calls meant anythin’._ “What is it?” He forced himself to ask, all hints of playfulness gone.

Edward’s tone was unsure, as if bracing _himself_ for rejection, like Gene had just done. Gene frowned. “I actually will be headed down there again, pretty soon. Bill’s got me picking up next month’s package.”

Gene’s breath hitched and a wave of _warmth_ spread through him as his heart began working double time. He could hardly hold back his hope and excitement when he breathed “You’re comin’ back?” 

“Yep.” Edward chirped, suddenly sounding more hopeful himself. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Sure, Edward.” Gene said, glancing around his kitchen, imagining the other man there again with him. How nice that’d be. How impossible it’d seemed. _I never thought I’d see you again._ “You come on down here,” Gene practically purred, “and I’ll feed you.”

Edward’s voice had a slightly choked quality when he agreed. “Sounds like a plan.”

After the call, Gene slumped back against the kitchen wall, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’m gonna see him again,” he spoke to the empty kitchen. “He’s comin’ back here.” It felt like tempting fate. But still…Gene was suddenly filled with something like hope.

* * *

TWENTY

“Don’t be a brat, Edward.” Gene laughed. “Do the dishes for yo’ poor mother. Nurses work hard,” he scolded. And Gene could still remember how surprised but pleased he’d been when Edward had provided that little detail. _Yeah, ma’s a nurse over at the hospital,_ he’d said, _so she works long shifts and weird hours sometimes._ Gene had an automatic respect for other healers, but it also made him feel warm inside to think that maybe Edward understood him a bit better than he’d given him credit for. Maybe he _did_ understand about the responsibility of helpin’ people if you were able. Maybe Edward was _drawn_ to people who helped others. _Hope is a powerful thing, isn’t it?_

“I know,” Edward whined, brining Gene back to the moment. Right. Scolding.

“And she feeds you.” Gene added. “You should take care ‘a her, too.” Single mother, takin’ care of her son. Okay, maybe they had more in common that Gene had originally thought. It made Gene a little sad, and he wanted to say: _You should_ definitely _take care of her, too. No one else in this world will like you._ But that was too much. Too soon.

“Alright, alright.” Edward whined, “Geez, Gene, all I said was that I hate doin’ the dishes. Listen.” Suddenly the staticky line was filled with the sounds of sloshing and clinking. “You hear that? I’m doin’ ‘em rigt now, okay?”

“Good.” Gene sniffed, satisfied that his lecture had been effective, even over the distance. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

* * *

TWENTY FIVE

“Oh my God, Gene,” Edward moaned down the line and Gene’s pulse kicked up. His whole body grew warm and tingly. “These are the best cookies in the world. I swear. I’m not exaggeratin’. They’re fuckin’ awesome.” _They must be, to get you to make_ that _sound._

Gene chuckled and forced his body to calm down. “So you’ve said.”

“They’re the best. Seriously. God, I wish you could pass food through a phone. I’d share with you.” His voice was still breathy, and _Lord, help me,_ it was _doing things_ to Gene. At the suggestion of sharing, all sorts of other ideas had popped into Gene’s head, with images to go along with them. His mouth watered. 

_Play it cool._ “You’d give me some of your _fuckin’ awesome_ cookies, Edward? I’m touched.” _See, that wasn’t so hard._

“I’d even give you the bigger half, Gene.” Edward insisted. “You deserve it.” _And okay, now that was just sweet._ The words calmed Gene’s imagination a bit, but now his heart felt suspiciously like mush.

“Well, now I’m sad I can’t taste it.” Gene admitted.

“I’ll make you some.” Edward offered earnestly.

Gene chuckled. “You don’t know how to bake, Edward. Told me so yo’self,” he reminded.

Edward didn’t sound deterred. “I’ll learn.”

* * *

THIRTY

Gene dragged his exhausted body to the kitchen and dumped himself heavily in the chair as he picked up the phone. “Hello?” The only reason he’d bothered was because he’d known it was Edward. 

The voice across the line was soft, concerned. “You sound tired, Gene. Are you okay?”

_He got all that from a single word. Need to think about that, later. Not now, though._ “Slept most a’ the day,” Gene mumbled, then yawned.

“Are you sick?” Yeah, Edward was definitely concerned. Gene was suddenly glad he’d at least hauled himself to the phone. How worried would Edward have been if he hadn’t even answered?

“No. One of the older ladies in the parish had a heart attack las’ night. They brought her ta me.” _Pounding at the door at 2am, flying out of bed in nothin’ but a t-shirt and shorts, too many people hangin’ around, crowding up his home._

“Oh my God,” Edward breathed, “Did she make it?”

Gene nodded wearily. “Yeah, she’s alive. It took a lot, though.” _From her_ and _from me._ “Her heart was bruised real bad.” Several times during the healing, Gene had thought that she wouldn’t make it. Her body kept quittin’ on her, but he’d managed to drag her through it, each time, until her own will to fight kicked in. It’d felt like doin’ battle, or like swimmin’ for miles with a heavy weight on your back. Once or twice, he’d thought she might drag him under, too. 

Edward’s voice broke through his musings, soft and concerned, but sharp through the phone. “Is anyone there, Gene, or are you alone?”

Gene sighed heavily. Exhausted, in so many ways. As soon as she’d stabilized, they’d carried her out of his home. He’d barely had the energy to lift himself from the floor. “It’s jus’ me, Edward, you know that.” How many times would Gene have to explain before Edward understood?

“Goddamnit,” Edward curse, “It’s not right, Gene. You deserve to have someone there to take care of you, too.” And there he went again, always talkin’ about what Gene _deserved._ Didn’t he realize that in real life, that didn’t matter?

Gene chuckled sadly, shaking his head. He thumped it back against the kitchen wall and closed his eyes. Better be direct, then. “People are afraid a’ me, Edward. Don’t you know that?”

Yeah, Edward sounded ready to fight _somebody._ “I’m not.” He insisted.

Gene sighed. “I know.” And he still couldn’t wrap his head around that. 

* * *

THIRTY THREE

Gene paced back and forth in his kitchen, eyes fixed on the phone like a crazy person. It was 9 o’clock already. Edward usually called by 7. _Something’s wrong._ Maybe Edward had just forgotten to call? _Thirty two days of callin’ before 7 and he forgets on day 33? No. Something’s wrong._ Squaring his shoulders, Gene fished Edward’s phone number out of his kitchen drawer. He’d used one of those operator codes to get the number after Edward had called him that second time, when Gene realized the first hadn’t been a fluke. Just in case. _Good thing, too._

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Gene’s heart perched in his throat. Suddenly, a woman’s voice answered “Hello?”

Gene pulled back from the phone for a second, suddenly wondering if he’d dialed the wrong number. _Something’s wrong._ He cleared his throat. “…is Edward there?” He asked hesitantly.

“May I ask who’s calling?” _That’s not a no._

He squared his shoulders, as if he were addressing her in person. “My name is Eugene Roe, ma’am. I’m a friend of his.”

“Oh, Gene,” the woman breathed, and Gene frowned at the familiarity. “Yes, Babe’s mentioned you.” _He has?_ “I’m sorry, Babe’s not here right now. He forgot his phone this morning.” Oh…his mother, most likely. Gene’s shoulders began to relax fractionally. “And then there was an accident at work. He’s at the hospital.”

“What?” Gene practically yelped, his stomach filling with ice-cold dread. “What happened? Is he alright?” _You ain’t there. He’s hurt, and you ain’t there. There ain’t a damn thing you can do to help him, Eugene Roe._ His heart hammered in his chest.

“Bill said something about a bar fight and Babe needing some stitches. I’m sorry, I don’t know more.” _Damnit._ “I can have him call when he gets home?” _At least it wasn’t worse._

“Yes, please,” Gene croaked. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you, ma’am.” He settled the phone numbly back in its cradle and wrapped his arms around himself. _It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay_. He told himself. But… _You ain’t there._

Shaking the negative thoughts from his mind, Gene began to pace again, knowing there would be no rest for him until he heard from his friend. _His friend._ The thought itself nearly halted him. It was true, though. Edward wasn’t just an acquaintance. Wasn’t just a stranger who’d been passing through. He was Gene’s friend. And Gene cared about him. _A lot,_ the voice in the back of his mind added, helpfully. Gene bowed his head. “Shit.”

THIRTY THREE AND A HALF

It was late when the phone rang, but Gene pounced on it halfway through the first ring. He pressed it to his ear. “Babe?”

“Hey, Gene.” Edward’s voice was thin, weary. “My ma said you called. Sorry I missed ya.” It was just so good to hear from him, at all. Gene’s heart thumped heavily in his chest.

“Are you alright?” He asked anxiously. “What happened? Your mother said you needed stitches.”

Edward sighed. “Yeah, a fight broke out at work today. I tried to break it up and one of the drunk morons shattered a glass against my arm and hand. Cut me up pretty good. I had to get fifteen stitches.”

“ _Merde,”_ Gene hissed, and the lights in his kitchen flickered. Gene closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. Still, he could see it. Some drunken fool, smashing a glass against Edward’s soft, pale skin. Cutting, tearing. Edward’s _pain_. The lights flickered some more. _This ain’t workin’._ “What’d the doctor say?” _You need to calm yourself down, before you shatter a bulb again._

“She said it didn’t cut through anything important,” _Thank God,_ “but it’ll hurt for a while, and definitely scar.”

“Fuck,” Gene cursed under his breath, directing his ire toward the drunken fool who’d caused this mess. Maybe it was for the better that Gene hadn’t been there. “What’s your address, Edward?” Gene asked. He pulled out a pen and paper.

“My address? Why?”

“I’m gonna send you somethin’. It’ll help.” Already, his mind was sorting through a number of things he could send. 

“Alright, Gene,” Edward said, suddenly sounding much happier. The tone perked Gene up a bit, too. Gene scribbled quickly as Edward gave his address. Then the man said “You don’t have to, ya know. I know you hate mailin’ things.” 

And Gene did. Oh, he did. He hated the Post Office, for one. And them always wantin’ to know what was in his packages. _Like I’d tell ‘em._ And he hated how things sometimes got lost. Or broken. Or how sometimes the heat or the time drained the herbs’ effectiveness. But this was different. “I’m sure your doctor did her best, Edward, but I can do better.” _Not hubris,_ Gene had to remind himself, _cold, hard fact._ “I’ll overnight it.”

Edward’s tone was soft enough to calm him down when he said “Thanks, Gene.”

Gene paused in his still frantic pacing and finally let his shoulders relax. The situation wasn’t ideal, but Edward was okay, and soon enough he’d be better. “You’re welcome.” Gene breathed. “Now go get some rest, alright?”

He could practically _hear_ the smirk. “Yes, sir.” Then the phone clicked.

Gene’s emotions were a jumbled mess. _Yes, sir,_ Edward had quipped, playful, teasing. The words both soothed Gene and got him riled up. Which he _couldn’t afford,_ unless he wanted to be replacing lightbulbs in the dark. Which he didn’t. And part of him was still worried, even though he knew Edward was okay, had just spoken with him. He couldn’t get over that someone had hurt him, that Edward was in pain, injured, so close but so far away. If Gene were there, he could lay his hands on him, and Edward would be good as new come mornin’. If Gene were there, he never would’ve let him get hurt in the first place. _But you ain’t there,_ he reminded himself. _So calm down and do what you do best._

Gene dug through his cabinet until he found the little jar full of his strongest healing salve. He looked at the clock. Yeah, there wasn’t a Post Office in the state still open at this hour. Maybe a UPS or a Fedex, or some such. Gene quickly climbed in his truck and headed for town. No place was open that late there, either, but at least a couple locals were able to give him helpful directions. 

Gene ended up driving more than an hour to get to a place that was barely still open. When he strode inside, declaring that he needed to mail something, he thought that the gangly teenager behind the counter might faint. But the kid had rallied and given Gene the required paperwork and a little package to seal up. “You need to declare it,” the teenager said.

“What?”

“You need to say what’s in there. For insurance purposes.” He said the words, but his big blue eyes told Gene he’d rather not.

Gene frowned. “Spices. For cookin’.”

“Right,” the kid drawled, but didn’t push. Then he told Gene how much it’d cost to get it to Philadelphia in a day. The price made Gene want to cry, but he agreed to pay it. Once paid, the kid behind the counter assured him that it’d be there in time, and he even gave Gene a receipt with a phone number to call to check. 

Gene felt slightly better once the package was out of his hands and on its way. He finally allowed his shoulders to relax and he realized he’d been so worried about Edward that he hadn’t eaten any dinner. He quickly bought a burger and fries from a fast food joint up the road then climbed back into his truck to head back home. 

During the drive, between eating one fry and the next, Gene realized something he hadn’t before. When Edward had picked up the phone, Gene had called him Babe. He remembered thinking, when Edward had introduced himself that way, that the name was too sweet, soft, and intimate for a kid like him. That Gene could only ever imagine calling a sweetheart by that name. His heart thumped in his chest and he took a sip of water to wash down that fry. _Babe._

Gene guessed that name sounded alright.

* * *

THIRTY FIVE

“Hello, Edward,” Gene greeted, “Did you get the package?” He knew he must’ve, because Gene _had_ called that number to check.

“Sure did!” Edward chirped. “Thanks, Gene. I really appreciate it.”

“You follow the directions?”

“Yes, sir. My arm is bandaged as we speak.” _Good. That’s what Gene liked to hear._

“Good. How’s the pain?”

“Actually…it doesn’t hurt at all anymore.” Edward’s voice suddenly went soft, amazed. “I’m guessin’ that’s your handiwork?”

Gene smiled serenely. “I’m glad it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“You know you didn’t have to do this, right?”

“I know, but I wanted to.” _No way in hell I wouldn’t have._ Gene glanced up at the kitchen light, but it remained steady.

“Well, thanks. Like I said. How are you?”

“I’m good. One of my neighbors brought by a casserole today.”

“Well, that was nice of them.”

“Yeah, saves me from havin’ to cook tonight. I’m beat.” _Sore, exhausted, ready to drop._ “Spent the morning workin’ on my truck.” His speedy trip into the city to mail Edward’s package had done a number on it.

Edward swallowed heavily and Gene quirked a brow, confused. “You get it done?”

“Sure did.” He smiled proudly. “Runs like a champ again. Do you have to work tonight?”

“Nah. Joe gave me a couple days off for my hand.”

Gene nodded. _Good man._ “Good. You should rest, Edward.” He bit his lip, wondering whether he should bring it up right now, or not. But…he’d been wondering. Really, thinking about it all the time. “So, uh…” He cleared his throat, “when should I expect you?”

Edward’s voice took on a playful tone. “Depends. You want some company for a couple days? Because, I mean, I could come a bit earlier.”

_And spend more time with me. Here. The two of us. In my home._ Gene grinned and blushed. “I’d like that.” _So, so much._ His friend was coming, and for the duration of the visit, Gene wasn’t going to be alone. The idea of it, _alone,_ hurt so much more now. Gene had gotten used to daily conversations with Edward. And once he was here, there’d be even more.

“Then I’ll be down in a couple weeks.” Edward decided.

Gene strode over to where his calendar hung and he marked it down. “Alright.” 

* * *

THIRTY SIX

“Hello, Edward,” Gene greeted from where he sprawled in the kitchen chair with a Coke. “How is your arm?”

“It’s completely healed, Gene! Seriously, you’re a miracle worker.” Gene blushed. “I don’t know how to thank ya.”

“There’s no need for that, Edward. I’m happy to help.” Gene took a long gulp of the soda. Honestly, he was just happy that Edward was feelin’ so much better. 

“Well, I want you to know that I appreciate it anyway.” Gene heard some scuffling sounds on the other end of the line for a moment, and then Edward’s voice took on a slight echo. “Hey, I was wonderin’ about somethin’.”

Gene shrugged. “What is it?” Another gulp of soda.

“You called the other night, while I was at the hospital. You’ve never called before, so, uh…not that I’m complainin’, but why that night?”

Gene sat up straight in the chair, the soda fizzing in his mouth. _Caught._ He swallowed and cleared his throat. _Bluff or show your cards?_ Gene shifted uncomfortably, not used to being so…forthright, with his feelings. “You usually call by a certain time” he explained, “and when you didn’t…” Gene took a deep breath, let it out. “I worried about ya.”

Edward’s voice was soft and happy when he said “Well, then…thanks for checkin’ in on me.” Gene’s shoulders began to relax. “And ya know…you can call again, whenever you want.”

_He wants to hear from you more._ Gene didn’t bother fighting the huge smile and the swell of warmth at the thought. “I’ll keep that in mind.” _Thirteen more days and you’ll be here,_ Gene thought. He couldn’t wait. 


End file.
